


seizure

by Eve6262



Category: Epic Battle Fantasy (Matt Roszak Video Games)
Genre: Hurt, Injury Recovery, Recovery, the gang has favorite weapons and outfits because I said so, the graphic depictions are just for lance's wounds for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eve6262/pseuds/Eve6262
Summary: Lance sometimes leaves in the dead of night. He's always back by the time anyone wakes.Today he is absent even after breakfast.
Kudos: 2





	seizure

Despite appearances, it was obvious that Lance cared. So Nat thought, anyway- she saw the quiet concern whenever she got siphoned or fell in battle, emotions clearly running a bit deeper than a mere concern that the healer was down. She never said much about it; surely Matt and Anna saw it too, and Lance would never admit to liking anyone but Nolegs, but she was sure of it.

Today she found out she was wrong.

“Ass...I’ll bet he’s just trying to ambush us in his tank or something.”

“He wouldn’t, I’m telling you. Something’s wrong.”

Lance had been missing that morning. That was already disconcerting, but not implausible. Lance occasionally left to obscure, inhabited areas in the dead of night, gunblade and usually Gungnir in tow, and simply exited for a few hours. She knew because she’d once panicked when his thin form wasn’t visible on the couch after a nightmare, only for him to return not 20 minutes later almost looking at peace.

It was possible that he’d fallen asleep wherever he was going (no, never, not a man who would wake at the sound of an out of place breath) but that possibility had come and gone when it was halfway through breakfast and he still hadn’t shown up.

At the moment, though, only Nat seemed concerned. Anna simply didn’t care, almost seeming happy he wasn’t there to dampen the mood. Matt probably thought the same, but kept quiet for fear of angering the mage.

Nolegs was also being quiet impatient, though that could mean anything. The cat had always been quiet excitable over nothing, usually calming down once they set out for the day.

“He’s pretty capable. I’m sure he’s okay. He could’ve just gotten caught up with something.”

“For this long?”

“Maybe he’s smoking- you did say you didn’t want him smoking inside.”

“Then he’d be just outside, and he isn’t.”

Matt, having finally finished his meal, patted her on the shoulder. “He’ll be okay! Even if he did get in trouble, he’s got his own healing skills and stuff. Maybe he can’t beat everything, but he can certainly run from whatever’s threatening him.”

That got her to calm down, if only a bit. “That’s true...” For a moment, she allowed herself to calm, if only a bit.

Then Nolegs jumped at her again, meowing quite loudly. She started petting the cat’s head, hoping for some comfort. Instead, it he promptly jumped off her lap and nudged at the door.

“You want to head out?”

“Well, breakfast is over. Let’s go look for this ambush, yeah?”

“He’s not going to ambush us. He’s probably...Something.”

“Fixing that tank after a fight, maybe?”

“Sure. Hopefully.”

Nat was prepared to take the lead, the other two clearly not (she knew, of course, that’s not true, from the way Matt would use the familiar dark colors on Lance’s coat to calm himself after going berserk or the way Anna would go out of her way to use the more industrial bows just to see the almost pleased look on his face) invested in this quest.

But Nolegs, for once, had other plans. The moment the door opened the cat was bounding across the rickety wooden bridges holding so many Greenwood keepsakes and something in the back of Nat’s mind told her this was a bad sign.

“Guess the cat’s leading.”

And so they followed him, letting him leap at the small non-threats. Yet absent from his combat were the usual flourishes and twists in the air; only just enough to get them out of the way and nothing more. Not even a regard for himself- Nat and Anna both focused on healing at some point, just to keep the cat alive and well.

Finally, Nolegs hopped just out of sight and started loudly meowing in place.

“What is it?”

A quiet, almost inaudible groan from behind that rock. But she recognized it- oh how she recognized it.

“Lance?”

No response.

She peeked to the other side. There he was, sitting against it, side stained in blood, coat abandoned next to him and hat hanging loosely on his head. His gunblade, as always, in his right hand; his left was clutched tight.

“Lance!”

Immediately she rushed over to help him, healing magic bursting from her fingertips. Before she even surveyed the damage, a quick spell to keep him alive. It seemed to work, though she couldn’t tell what was currently bleeding and what was already stained red.

God, she could remember the days she’d wake up in the earliest morning, padding downstairs or into the kitchen dependent on their stay that night, and see him loosely using his coat as a blanket, white undershirt almost faded to a cream. Now it was soaked and red, like the medal on his coat or the glow of his favorite gun.

“Hey. Hey, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

His eyes were fluttering, unfocused, straying from her to the cat to the ground and back again. He barely nodded.

The other two were worrying behind her, but that wasn’t a part of the picture anymore. She immediately undid his shirt, knowing he’d lament its loss, and looked at the damage properly.

There was still a deep gash in his side, and burn marks (they looked like vampire bites, two little dots, made probably with some dual- pronged electric rod or perhaps they really were fangs) on his neck. His arm jolted every now and again. His entire body was practically limp- impossible. Something was much more wrong than the crimson pool beneath him; Lance was as stiff as a board even when asleep.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

His arm jolted again, his leg joining this time. He shook his head a little, eyes struggling. When he opened his mouth to speak it was raspy and started a fit of coughing before he could get a word out.

“Alright. Alright. Here, hold on.”

Her dress, a favorite, red that’s just a bit risque without being ridiculous and quite classy, swam in his vision. Red, more red- more blood? Or satin fabric that felt nice against his electrified skin? Both, he surmised; blood must feel like satin (no, that’s wrong, blood feels like oil mixed with honey and a splash of hate, what’s happening).

Anna’s green hair stood out in his vision. So did the yellow of the sunset- no, wait, it’s much later in the day than that. Matt’s hair? None of his swords were that dark and thick, a black square in his hands. How long had he bled out for? How long was were his limbs shaking with no control, his mind fading and coming back just to leave once more to a realm of nothing but shadow?

Nat could carry him. This had always been true- but usually he was a bit heftier than the lightest of Matt’s swords. The Celtic Cross was a bit heavier than him, actually, provided he wasn’t wearing his coat and guns. It was sometimes worrying.

Now he felt lighter than the Slime Staff, maybe even a feather; if she wasn’t already running she’d be moving faster at the mere thought. Anna and Matt rushed to keep up, and the cat, finally satisfied, lagged behind to snag a snack here or there.

She felt his leg jolt against her, and a tiny piece of her brain said _some kind of mana affliction?_ But Lance couldn’t catch that so easily- he casted through guns and amplifiers and machinery, not as purely as her or Anna or even Matt at times (though she suspected he could fell an entire village if he’d simply use his magic to the fullest extent, but no one else ever seemed to notice and something always seemed off about asking him to do so even in difficult fights).

The majority of her mind was occupied with getting him to safety and patching up his wounds, of course, but another part of her brain said _remember the electric burns?_ And she was convinced it was right by the time she’d burst through the door and set him down on the couch.

He seemed able to keep his eyes open for more than a moment, at least, but still in terrible shape. She patted his shoulder twice and stood up.

“Stay here, no fighting, healer’s orders. I’m getting you some water.”

The glass was already half full (half empty, said the optimistic part of her) when the others made it in the house. From her spot she could see him; his limbs were twitching still, occasionally, but he made no move to fight her orders. He made no move to do much of anything, really; the command was a bit overboard, considering he probably couldn’t.

Almost immediately she was back at his side.

“Here. Drink.”

He drank, but barely more than a few sips. His face was pained, eyes still fluttering closed, and what were those burn marks on his neck?

“Just a little more, please. Then you can sleep, okay? I’m here. You’ll be okay.”

He obliged, though it looked difficult. Finally, she laid him down, telling him to rest. The cat, seeing a new purpose, leapt to the couch armrest where he stayed whenever he wanted to stay with the gunner, curled up as if he was just as tired.

She looked to the others. Anna looked almost guilty, probably remembering breakfast. Matt kept stealing glances behind her, looking at the gunner’s limp form, his coat in the swordsman’s hands.

“I can look after him, if you guys need to go get supplies.”

The offer was surprising, but Anna jumped on it.

“Yeah, come on. I don’t know what we need for...what, twitching?”

“Neither do I.”

A silence and awkward looks followed.

“Maybe he’ll know when he wakes up. Either way, somebody’s gotta deal with the cat when he wakes up.”

“But-”

“Nat, you’re gonna worry yourself to death.”

“It’s justified!”

“And gonna kill you. Come on, if you let Matt come with me we’re gonna end up with way too much beer.”

“Hey!”

“It’s the truth.”

“Alright.”

And she begrudgingly let Matt stay with Lance, heading off to get supplies with the other girl.

The moment the door closed, he put down the coat on the back of the couch and moved to get a better look. He’d been farthest at all times, grabbing the coat and Nolegs while using Anna to keep track of Nat’s position, and barely even knew what was wrong.

Now he saw. At the very least, the gash in his midsection seemed fine- healed already via magic and a little bit of time, he knew. There was a tiny trace of blood still there, when it was closing up; he wiped that away with a tissue from the kitchen and threw it in the garbage.

His gunblade, even in his sleep, was still tightly clutched in his right hand. Unsurprising, considering the man.

His left hand was open, and something glinted from its spot between the two planes of the couch. Kleptomaniac that he was, he swiped it up without thinking (he felt a little bad, because he knew Lance hated that sort of thing, but nobody had to know if it was unimportant and hey maybe it could help calm Nat’s nerves).

It was a small metal plate of some sort, though it seemed quite thick, with two little nubs that reminded him of a baby’s fangs just starting to grow in.

Important, probably. He pocketed it for when Nat came back, and sat down, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this was also posted on tumblr, eve6262


End file.
